Supernatural
by Ignored Muse
Summary: A novelized version of the events of season 1, just for fun.


So a little explanation first: This summer is going to be super long and boring, so this is my project to keep me busy. I love Supernatural, obviously, and one thing I would really really love is Supernatural books. Not the ones some people write that are like "The events between seasons 3 & 4" like you find on Amazon. I mean the actual story in the show, but in book form with a little more info. Like the books Chuck was writing. Well, I can't find anything like that, so I decided to take it upon myself to write it. I found the transcripts of most of the episodes and I'm working on converting them into a kind of "novel" only I don't own it, nor do I plan on trying to get it published, nor make any money. This is purely for fun, and for anyone else who, like me, would rather read a book than watch an episode online.

I realize this doesn't exactly count as "fanfiction", but I figure this is as good a place as any to post it and if you don't like it you don't have to read it. This first installment is pretty short, but I'm working on the next one, and I hope anyone who plans on reading it, enjoys it!

_Prologue_

Lawrence, Kansas

November 2nd, 1983

Mary Winchester scooped up her oldest son and kissed the top of his head. His hair was still damp from his bath and she could smell the Johnson & Johnson baby shampoo. She loved that smell. It was so innocent, so safe. "Come on," she said, heading down the hallway. "Let's say good night to your brother." Dean nodded and fisted his little hands in the fabric of her white nightgown, squirming in his green plaid pajamas.

Mary opened the door to the nursery and turned on the light. In his crib, wrapped in a soft blue blanket, six month old Sam turned his head to look at them and gurgled. She set Dean down.

He scampered over to the crib and climbed up, leaning over to plant a kiss on Sam's forehead. "Night, Sam."

Mary leant over as well. "Good night, love," she said, and brushed his hair back before kissing him on the forehead. His little hand reached up and touched her cheek.

"Hey, Dean," came a man's voice from the doorway.

"Daddy!" Dean cried.

"Hey Buddy."

Mary turned in time to see her husband John, in his usual USMC t-shirt and sweatpants, scoop Dean up. "So what do you think?" he asked Dean. "You think Sammy's ready to toss a football around yet?"

Dean shook his head, laughing. "No, Daddy."

John laughed with him and said, "No."

"You got him?" Mary asked as she passed them on her way out the door. Her hand lingered on John's arm.

"I got him," he answered with a little smile, hugging Dean closer. Mary left and with a whispered, "Sweet dreams, Sam," John turned off the light and followed her.

In his crib, Sammy reached for his toes, and when the baseball mobile above his head began to spin of its own accord he grinned up at it and began to suck on his fingers. The clock on the wall with its planes and trains and boats and cars ticked, ticked, and stopped, and the moon nightlight flickered and went out, but Sam kept gurgling happily.

A few hours later Mary woke to the sounds of Sam's fussing coming through the baby monitor. She squinted at the monitor in the dark and turned on the lamp before saying groggily, "John?" She rolled over and, when she saw that he wasn't in bed with her, sighed and got up.

She groaned grumpily on her way to the nursery, and rubbed her eyes. She wondered where John was, but it didn't really matter. That man could sleep through anything, which meant it was usually Mary who got up when Sam woke up in the middle of the night.

But to her surprise, she entered the nursery and saw that he'd beat her there. "John?" she asked. "Is he hungry?"

He turned his head. "Shhhh."

"Alright," she said. Sam had stopped fussing and she was too tired to argue, so she turned and headed back down the hallway. The light by the stairs started to flicker. Mary walked over and tapped at it until it stopped. "Hm." She frowned, a little uneasy feeling growing inside her.

There was more flickering light downstairs and Mary went to investigate. Halfway down the stairs she realized it was the TV. A war movie was playing, and John was asleep in his chair, snoring softly.

The adrenaline tore through her veins at an almost painful rate and she was moving before her mind caught up. She did not know who the man was, but he was a danger, she knew it, and he was in the nursery. She ran up the stairs, stumbling on the hem of her nightgown, crying "Sammy! Sammy!" and burst into Sam's room.

John snorted and jerked awake, a woman's scream reverberating in his mind. "Mary?" he called, and sprinted up the stairs. The scream had come from the nursery, hadn't it? "Mary!" he called again, more desperately this time. She hadn't answered him. He ran into the nursery, but when he saw nothing but Sam awake in his crib, the tension seeped out of his muscles. Had it been a dream? It must have been. He went to the crib, glancing around the room, just to make sure. "Hey, Sammy," John said and lowered the side of the crib. "You okay?"

Sam looked up at him and gurgled, wiggling his arms like babies do. John gave him a little smile, his heart rate gradually slowing.

Something dark dripped onto the blanket by Sam's head. John frowned and touched it. It was warm, sticky. Two more drops fell on the back of his hand and with a sick feeling in his stomach, John realized that it looked like blood. He looked up and gasped, falling to the floor. Mary was sprawled across the ceiling, staring at John and struggling to breathe. The stomach of her nightgown was red with blood.

"No!" he yelled. "Mary!"

Mary burst into flame and instantly the sick smell of cooking meat and burning hair seared John's nose. In seconds the fire was crawling down the walls and devouring the furniture. In his crib, Sam began to scream and cry. John, remembering he wasn't alone, scrambled to his feet and scooped Sam up.

He rushed out of the nursery and saw Dean running down the hallway. "Daddy!" he cried.

John shoved Sam into Dean's arms. "Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back! Now, Dean, go!" Dean turned and ran down the stairs and John ran back into the nursery. The entire room was on fire, and he could barely see Mary, still on the ceiling. "Mary! No!"

Dean ran outside as fast as his little legs could carry him, taking care not to jostle Sam even though his little brother was squirming and screaming in his arms. "It's okay, Sammy," he said. He hated when Sam cried more than he hated anything in the world. He stopped in the yard and looked up at the house- one of the windows was glowing orange.

Suddenly his dad was there. "I gotcha," he said, and swept Dean and Sam up into his arms without stopping. He was still sprinting across the lawn when fire exploded out of the upstairs window.

The hours after that were a blur of screaming sirens and whirling lights. Firefighters hurried, dragging hoses across the lawn, and calling to each other. Neighbors murmured, watching as the firefighters struggled to extinguish the blaze and police held them back.

John sat on the hood of his Impala, a now quiet Sam in his arms, and watched as a team of paramedics unloaded a stretcher from the ambulance. No one knew it yet, but they wouldn't need it. Mary had been incinerated. Dean sat next to his father on the hood of the car. He watched the firefighters hurrying around on the lawn with wide eyes, scared and confused. But his dad was there, so Sammy was safe and so was he. Dean huddled closer and looked up at his dad, expecting him to smile, maybe pull him close in a hug, but he didn't. He didn't even look at him. All he did was glare at the fire still glowing in the window.

Thanks for reading! :D


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